True confessions: My garden vices

I have way more than one garden vice. Can’t stop buying plants, for example, although I know there’s no room. Call it gluttony. Fortunately, I compensate by killing a few. (A woman who can kill goutweed can kill anything!)

I also fall prey to sloth, especially when it comes to weeding and particularly about mid-July, when swamped by my garden’s yearly tsunami of morning glories.

Don’t get me started on envy. Sun, soil and space can leave me green with it.

But my biggest vice is statuary. Really, no garden so small should contain so much of it.

It’s our Welsh grandmother’s fault. She was big in garden gnomery. When we were five and eight, Sarah and I befriended these creatures for a year, and at the same time discovered lawn rollers, lupins, pollarded limes and parrot tulips. I was infected with them all.

At least, in my abundance, I’ve tried to exercise restraint. Most of mine follow a theme: critters (two rabbits, a toad, a turtle and a couple of sparrows). They’re all the same material: concrete. All a single colour: grey. Tucked amongst the foliage, they add what I hope is a whimsy that’s consistent with the rest of the garden.

How about you? What will you confess to?


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